Sanguine: Chapter 24 update

[rinoadestiny]

 Title: Sanguine
Author/Artist: RinoaDestiny
Rating: R
Fandom: Gohou Drug
Focus: Rikuou, Kazahaya
Warnings: Nothing adult in this one, but yes for previous chapters (also on Fanfiction.net)
Summary: Irony can be funny but it can also be brutally cruel. When Kazahaya and Co. find Rikuo one Christmas evening, laughter dies. How does Tsukiko tie into Rikuo's current condition, and can Kazahaya ever find the old Rikuo he once knew? (Kazahaya x Rikuo)

Sanguine

CHAPTER 24

"Rikuo, feel the air!" His hand against the screen, imprinting small webs on the flesh of his palm. "It's changing. It's spring!"

Rikuo came over, footfalls silent against the floor and extended his hand. The size of his palm would easily overlap his, Kazahaya saw but the other boy didn't make contact. A fresh breeze traveled in their direction, hints of warmth beneath the thawing chill and the smell of it reminded Kazahaya of cherry blossoms. Not yet - not for a while - but he remembered the fragrance as a harbinger of spring. A memory of sorts. Memories of Kei.

"You're right. It is." Rikuo's voice dry. "It's March, after all."

A reticent Rikuo was nothing new and Kazahaya didn't ask him to elaborate. A brief glance gave him an expressionless face and he looked away. Better not to go there. Slowly, he withdrew his hand, feeling the last gusts of warmth and reached for the window to pull it down. Rikuo pulled away from him, away from the window and spring shuttered out of their shared room. Only sunshine remained, golden and mellow.

It diffused throughout the room, onto the walls and in between these walls, Rikuo and he stood. It was Rikuo who sat first, quiet and solemn, on the bed, reclining against the backboard. Beneath dark hair, dark lashes closed and Rikuo's throat bared itself as his head leaned back. From here, his skin was pale and for an instant, Kazahaya imagined a crimson rictus across Rikuo's throat. Startled, he blinked, the vision vanishing.

He shuddered.

"Saiga hasn't said much about Kakei."

Was Rikuo initiating the conversation? That was a first. "Maybe nothing's happening."

"Maybe. But it's not like Saiga." Rikuo looking at him now, gaze unreadable. "Should we ask him?"

"To see if everything's okay?" He started to shrug but stopped. "It won't hurt. Do you think he'll mind?"

"I don't know. It's not like him."

Why the concern? He wanted to ask but Rikuo was leading him somewhere and he didn't want to reach the destination ahead of time. He wasn't sure if anything he said would lead to accidental triggers. Gods, he hoped not.

"Maybe after he wakes up." Saiga-san sleeping again. Whether it was from exhaustion or a part of his psychic ability that Kazahaya still couldn't figure out, the man deserved his rest. Getting them settled in - two grown boys - in a strange city that wasn't Tokyo while being chased by known criminal elements was more than scary. It was stressful. "Why are you asking?"

"Because I'm worried about Kakei."

"He is, too, Rikuo."

"I know. It's just..." A small sigh. "I'm responsible for it."

"Don't, Rikuo." Don't go there. Please. "He made up his mind. Saiga-san tried to convince him otherwise, but you know Kakei-san. Once he's made his choice, he doesn't back down. He's like you, kinda...I think."

"He's nothing like me." Rikuo's jaw tightened; eyes hard. "He could make a choice."

"You made a choice, too, Rikuo. You made that deal with Yoshiro."

"Which is why I'm responsible."

"Goddammit, Rikuo." His voice rose too high. Clamping his mouth shut, Kazahaya strode over to the door and closed it. The knob dug into the lower vertebrae of his spine as he turned around, leaning his weight upon it. "Why do you always do this to yourself? Why is it always your fault?"

"Why are you here? It's because of me. It's why Kakei's not here and Saiga knows that."

"You think he hates you?"

"If something happens to Kakei..."

"Rikuo, he won't. Believe me - he can't allow himself to."

"He can lie to himself." Rikuo shifted on the bed, hands covering his face. His voice was muffled, some syllables blurring together into incoherency. "I lied...you can always lie...doesn't change the truth."

"You lied...to whom?"

"Who do you think?" Rikuo wasn't looking at him. "Who would I lie to?"

Kazahaya never liked calling himself obtuse or stupid but some concepts took time for him to understand. This one, however, lingered evanescent, teasing him. He grasped for it, felt it slipping out of his mental grip and lunged for it. Who was Rikuo talking about? Why would Rikuo lie? Why would Rikuo...

The mental gears clicked, snapping together into a unified coalescence of thought. No. No, it couldn't be. But why?

"Rikuo?"

"You know, don't you?" The other psychic's fingers barricaded his face; he could only read Rikuo's emotional level from his voice. The dark undertone and flat resignation. "Who it is."

"But why?"

"Ask Saiga if Kakei gets hurt. It won't matter who you ask then."

"No, but why you? Why yourself?"

"How else was I to endure?" The temporary image again, superimposed over Rikuo's bowed form - scarlet smile of blood - and Kazahaya shivered, gripping his arms tight. "Tell me, Kazahaya. What would you do...in my place?" The last few words were forced out, strained as if Rikuo couldn't say them out loud.

"What?"

"Would you survive? Or would you break, Kazahaya?"

"What does that have to do with -"

"I told myself I could tolerate it. That they weren't hurting me that badly. That I wasn't breaking. That they weren't breaking me. That I wouldn't break." Rikuo's ragged sigh verged on tears. "Lies. I tried to believe them. Then, when she..."

Tsukiko?

"She died and I...I hated him. Hated him for taking her away. I blamed him for everything. But that was a lie, too. You see it, don't you, Kazahaya?"

He did. He wished he didn't.

"Because I lied to myself. Saiga will lie to himself, too. He'll say he blames himself but it's me he'll hate. Because I started it all."

"He won't!"

"He will." Rikuo raised his head; Kazahaya shivered at his tearless eyes. "Just like how I told myself I hated Toshiya for killing Tsukiko." Rikuo's mouth twisted. "But you know who I really hate, don't you, Kazahaya?"

He knew. He didn't want to say it.

"Rikuo..."

"Tell me, Kazahaya."

He couldn't do it. Instead, he asked Rikuo another question; anything to break this stalemate. "Why, Rikuo? Why now?" Why when we're safe here?

"You said it yourself. It's spring."

"But what does that have to do with this?"

"Think, Kazahaya."

He couldn't figure out what Rikuo was getting at, what point he was trying to make. Spring. Okay, that was obvious but how did spring tie into Rikuo being like this and asking him these bizarre questions? And why was he so worried about Kakei-san - who could take care of himself - and Saiga-san? Why was he so worried about Saiga-san hating him?

What was the root issue here - the thing that caused Rikuo to think this?

Why, after three weeks of relative quiet?

"Kazahaya?"

He didn't answer; not yet. Spring. March. What happened in March besides the girls' Doll's Festival, which was already over? What other day... Oh no.

He met Rikuo's desperate gaze, disbelieving. "Rikuo, it's not..."

"Yes. It is."

White Day. He'd almost forgotten it in their rush for shelter and safety. Forgotten it because they were nestled here, in Nagoya, like birds in a new nest and he hadn't thought about it. He'd no girlfriend to give chocolates, so it didn't affect him. Green Drugstore was two hours away by train and Kakei-san would be setting up shop for such a holiday. But he wasn't there working as a clerk, so it never crossed his mind.

But Rikuo had been thinking it. Worrying over it. Because...

"Rikuo?"

"Tsukiko liked it. She once did."

Kazahaya couldn't help but notice the past tense Rikuo used, as if twisting the knife of his agony deeper into the gaping wound. Again, the image of Tsukiko and her open throat flickered before him and the older psychic blanched. He didn't want to remember it from Rikuo's memories but he did. That, and Rikuo was now openly speaking about Tsukiko. The main cause of this hurt, of this ache. Of those questions.

Kakei-san and Saiga-san. Of course.

"You think Saiga-san -"

"I don't think. I know. He gives Kakei chocolates every White Day...like I once did...for her."

So much pain here, and it was in the room - carried from Shinjuku, Tokyo over to Nagoya in one of their many wards - and Rikuo was on the bed, hunched over and vulnerable. Kazahaya uncrossed his arms, letting them fall slack to his sides and crossed the room. It didn't take long before he sat across from Rikuo, wanting to hold him and tell him he was here. But he couldn't do it - not now - and he sat and waited.

Waited for Rikuo to continue.

He'd never heard so much from Rikuo. So much about Tsukiko and his past life with her. White Day. He tried to imagine Rikuo giving her chocolates and surprised himself when he could. Their relationship had changed in an imperceptible way. A few months ago, he wouldn't have been able to see Rikuo as anything else but cold, irascible, and sour-faced. Now, he saw as if through a foggy lens, the possibility of Rikuo being gracious, being kind, being everything the girls at the store dreamed of when it came to their tall, dark, and handsome. Rikuo giving Tsukiko a small box of chocolates. She might have laughed - she had a pretty voice. Had.

He winced. Rikuo started at his reaction, pupils dilating.

"Kazahaya?"

A different tone of voice there. Was it alarm or surprise?

"Rikuo..." An errant thought, sudden. "Did you, uh, have a nightmare last night?"

That was it.

The other boy paled, skin whitening. His scars stood out, mapped over once-broken skin. "How...?"

"It couldn't have just been White Day," Kazahaya heard himself say, keeping his voice gentle and soft. "I'm always afraid, Rikuo, that I won't understand enough to help you. I'm afraid of triggering you, of saying something wrong. I don't hate this. I don't hate you. I hate seeing you like this."

"But..."

"You have nightmares, Rikuo. Nightmares I can't see because you won't let me. I understand," he said as Rikuo opened his mouth again to speak. "You're protecting me. You always do. Even now. I know that much, Rikuo. Maybe we're even there. But only something like that - something you remember - would make you like this."

"Kazahaya..."

"Was it bad?"

A brief nod. Rikuo's eyes disappearing behind his sleeve. Silence falling, poignant.

"I won't ask."

"Thank you." Steel behind the shattered remains. He wasn't going to see Rikuo cry.

"Saiga-san's still asleep." He hadn't heard any sounds outside their door.

"He needs it."

"He doesn't hate you, Rikuo. Don't think that."

Silence.

"Rikuo..." The mention of his partner's name brought a dry-eyed gaze peering over cotton at him. "Please don't hate yourself. She..." Sacrosanct territory here; be careful, Kazahaya. "I don't think she'll want you doing this to yourself."

"You don't know Tsukiko."

"I know what I saw. She loved you, Rikuo. She won't...I can't imagine her holding that against you."

"But..."

Kazahaya sighed, adding to the many sighs already released in their bedroom. "But what, Rikuo? You hate yourself for losing her, for being unable to protect her? How long will that hatred last, Rikuo? Will you let Toshiya win? Do I have to watch?"

"I...no...I mean..."

"I made a promise a few months ago. I'll be here. I'll help. I know it's hard. Believe me, I do," Kazahaya said, tears in the corners and edges of his eyes. "It's hard to watch you like this. But Saiga-san...Kakei-san...they both...we all agree that you'll pull through. It might not be much -"

"It probably won't." Rikuo's voice almost inaudible.

"But we'll be here. We wouldn't be here if Saiga-san and Kakei-san didn't want to help you. If they hated you like you think. We don't. Please, Rikuo. Don't push me aside. Don't do that."

"I don't -"

"Want to see me get hurt?"

Rikuo said nothing in response; only looked at him, a shadow of pain there, reminiscent of the hollow agony when Tsukiko died in front of him.

"I know you can't let go of her. I can't blame you for that."

"Then you understand."

"I'm not her, Rikuo." An emphatic plea. "Please don't look at me like that."

"It's just so hard."

"I know, Rikuo." Tears slid down his cheeks. Of course. He was the empath - he knew what it was to feel, to immerse himself into others' memories until they became his own. But Rikuo was different. Rikuo was someone he trusted. Someone he now loved. It was different. Kakei-san told him as much.

"You're crying."

A slight trembling in the other boy's voice. Whereas Rikuo stifled his tears, Kazahaya was always ready to shed his own. If it wasn't for how distraught he was, the older psychic might've laughed at the irony. Who'd suffered more? Why was he crying?

"I'm sorry."

"No. I..." Somehow, Rikuo had gotten closer, concern in the faint lines of his face. "I didn't mean to...hurt you like..."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to..."

"No." Rikuo's fingers on his shoulder, touch feather-light. "I'm sorry."

Sniffling, he met Rikuo's anxious gaze. The emotion that welled within him had no name - it was just there - and he trembled, wondering if it was from Rikuo's touch. He didn't do it this time; Rikuo did. Was that a change? Something different? As if Rikuo read his mind, the warmth of his roommate's hand left; only the impression that it once lingered there now a mild sensation through his shirt. He remained quiet, contemplating.

A few seconds passed. Nothing.

Then Rikuo spoke, mildness replacing tension. "I never want to hurt you. You know that, Kazahaya."

His name said as effortless and soft as a spring breeze riding in on a March wind. The wind carried away many things. Carried them faraway to places unimaginable. Kei - flowers and kimonos and bells - said his name was an ill portent; that the wind swept away many of them to a bad end. The wind didn't carry him out of the Kudou estate, out from beyond the gate and fences and guards but he'd left all the same. A bad end, nearly - December and snow and many unknown faces - but Rikuo found him.

So, here he was.

December and snow and a dark alley with blood on the wall. A bad end, nearly but they found Rikuo before it was too late.

So, here he was.

So, here he was, looking at him, studying him back with that half-veiled expression, trust and care and fear warring behind those eyes. The nightmares always hung dark and foreboding there, drapes of anguish and indescribable horror and it was a nightmare that triggered this conversation. That led them to this crux.

Kazahaya lifted his head, took a quick glance around.

Golden afternoon, through and through. Sunlight through glass and gold on the walls.

Rikuo sat across from him, still and watchful.

Waiting.

"I know, Rikuo." The boy's name familiar on his tongue. Effortless as well. "I know."

A breath shuddered out of Rikuo; Kazahaya hadn't realized just how important it was, which meant something. I don't hate you, Rikuo. I never will.

"Are you okay?"

Rikuo nodded, which was answer enough. At least for now.

"Do you still want me to ask Saiga-san what's going on with Kakei-san? See if he's doing all right?"

"No. I'll ask."

"He doesn't hate you, Rikuo. He won't mind."

"I know. I'm just always afraid he does."

Saiga-san's shades were askew, indicative of a lengthy slumber. The large man wandered into the kitchen in a bathrobe, headed for the fridge and began muttering something. Kazahaya cradled his bowl of rice and eggs - Japanese-style - and clicked his chopsticks, glancing at Rikuo as Saiga-san joined them. "It's that time already?" The man put a mug down and poured out some milk and took a drink. "Have I been asleep that long?"

"Uh...it's not lunch, Saiga-san. We're just having a little snack."

"Little?" Another swallow. "Who cooked? You, boy?"

"Yeah."

"Smells good. Say, you boys up for something special tonight?"

"Like what?"

The shades looked at him and then turned towards Rikuo. "Maybe some fish. Something different, you know? Aren't you boys tired of your usual stuff already?"

Kazahaya looked at Rikuo, who glanced at him.

"I take that's a 'yes', right?"

"I guess."

"Okay, then. You know the drill. Listen for my signal and don't open the door for anyone else. Worked fine for the past few weeks, right? Lemme finish this and then I'm going shopping. Need anything else like soap or shampoo?"

"I don't think so."

"Good. That's settled, then."

"Saiga." Rikuo's tone tense; Kazahaya thought he'd never speak. "How's Kakei doing?"

"Why'd you ask, Rikuo?"

"You haven't...said anything about him for a while. I thought -"

"He's doing all right. Been busy, that's all. Not too easy unloading those boxes. Restocking those shelves by himself. A holiday's around the corner, after all - he needs to be ready. No, don't worry yourself, Rikuo. Kakei will let me know if anything's wrong. He's good about that."

What Saiga-san had probably mistaken for further concern Kazahaya realized. Rikuo's sudden change of color coincided with the holiday comment. White Day. He couldn't go into Rikuo or Saiga-san's mind - he was no mind reader - to see what each thought about it but guessing Rikuo's was easier. Was he feeling guilty again now that Saiga-san offhandedly mentioned it? Hard, too, to read Saiga-san's expression. The shades did a good job hiding the man behind it.

"That's...that's good."

He wanted to reach across and hold Rikuo's hand. A new habit, this - Rikuo's nervous clenching of his fingers; the nails white along with the scars.

"It's okay, Rikuo. Kakei-san's fine."

From the corner of his eye, Saiga-san's covered visage stared at him - at them - as if curious. "Did something happen while I was asleep?"

Kazahaya didn't reply. Rikuo's gaze lifted, meeting his.

Yeah, they were going to be all right.